I don't know how to be or why the gaps in the music trouble me They trouble me I'm the blue paint that marks the tree with the hapless bag caught in the breeze I'm caught in the breeze I guess, I guess I don't know why I hung you out to dry Or why or why we go The distance that we drive Trucks like trains, score the plains Through the dirty snow and endless rains Those endless rains I guess, I guess I don't know why I hung you out to dry Or why or why we go The distance that we drive Drive, drive We drive I guess, I guess, I guess I I guess, I guess, I guess I guess I don't know why I don't know I guess, I don't know